


hearth

by swishandflickwit



Series: The Devil's Lucky Number [16]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: But not today, Chloe KNOWS, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar Bonding, Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar Friendship, Trixie knows, all three, but just give me this for now lmao, chloe has no dialogue here guys sorry, he is risen, im just soft for Trixie & Lucifer okay, one day, one day i will write about all three of them, post-reveal, step-satan shenanigans, welcome to my Trixie & Lucifer trash, why do i have to always be ride or die smh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-24 02:46:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18562363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishandflickwit/pseuds/swishandflickwit
Summary: Trixie didn’t like the cold.After all, the hangar they were at the day Malcolm Graham kidnapped her—had been chilling… in ways that went beyond mere temperature.In which the Devil's arms make for optimal cuddling conditions.





	hearth

Trixie didn’t like the cold.

After all, the hangar they were at the day Malcolm Graham kidnapped her—

(that same day she had never seen her mom so scared, that she heard gunshots for the first time and Lucifer died, which he denied then, but Trixie wasn’t dumb, she had seen the blood, _so much blood_ and he died he died he _died—_ )

—had been chilling… in ways that went beyond mere temperature.

So yeah, it was safe to say, not only did she not like the cold.

She _abhorred_ it.

(Lucifer taught her that word, ha)

Which really sucked, because her room in the mornings was _freezing._

She knew she should tell her mom, but it honestly wasn’t a big deal! Trixie was _eleven_ now, a Big Girl. She had her socks and favorite hoodie, piled a ton of blankets on herself during bedtime. Sure, she’d wake up a sweaty heap of limbs and cloth but it was nothing a shower couldn’t fix.

It had gotten tiresome, though.

But that was where Lucifer came in.

Lucifer who was a legit _archangel of God_ with the _biggest and prettiest wings_ she had ever seen!

Sure, he hadn’t _meant_ to show her, and _maybe_ she shouldn’t have been pouncing on his back the way she had, but it had been so long since she saw him and she _missed_ him and he was _right there—_

So she jumped him and they sorta… popped out.

Her mom worried.

(When _didn’t_ she?)

Something about her brain turning to mush, but Lucifer was like, kids were pure and immune blah blah blah—could they just skip to the part where he had _massive!!! angel!!! wings!!!_

But more importantly, he was warm. Like, dry-yourself-by-the-fireplace-after-a-day-of-playing-in-the-snow-but-make-it-supernatural _warm._

Then mom sat her down to tell her she would _still_ be her priority but also that she and Lucifer were dating now—which about time, yeesh—so she wasn’t really paying attention because Trixie realized—

She had a new, person-shaped solution to her cold problem!

Weekend mornings became her favorite time cause she could sneak into mom’s room where Lucifer liked to sleep in just as much as Trixie did.

Mom was always getting on him to wear something other than _just_ his lounge pants but she secretly cheered when Lucifer never listened to her.

Because though he denied it, ever since the first time she crept into their room and told him about her hate for the cold, she knew—

(He looked at her all soft, and Trixie really liked it, loved it even more when he opened his arms and said, “I abhor it, too.”)

—he did it for her just as much as he did it for himself.

He was sprawled on his stomach when she clambered to the empty side of the bed (her mom all ready downstairs with a cup of coffee) and snuggled her face onto his back.

“Your nose is cold,” he grunted. She released her clutch on Miss Alien so she could flatten her palm on his shoulder blade. He hissed.

“Bloody urchin,” he grumbled. “Positively medieval, you are.”

Trixie snickered, before her jaw cracked with a yawn.

“D’you want the wings out?” he followed this with one of his own.

“Uh uh,” she murmured. “’m fine.”

“Scoot over then,” he slurred, turning on his back. With his eyes still closed, he raised an arm and Trixie rolled into him.

Yet she couldn’t sleep, her hand drifting to the spot on his gut where Malcom’s bullet bit through him. She shivered.

His breathing had long deepened, so she was surprised when he whispered, “Be at peace, Beatrice. No monster shall reach you here.”

“I know.”

“Of course,” he returned glumly. “Because I’m the biggest monster there is.”

“No, cause your _heart_ is the biggest there is.”

He didn't speak more after that, but he tightened his embrace. Trixie’s head fell heavy on his chest, where his reassuring heartbeat lulled her to sleep because  _finally._

She was warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll. THE [SEASON 4 TRAILER](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRQb74Cr9N0) KILLED ME. IDK HOW I'M SUPPOSED TO GO ON WITH THESE. I AM LITERALLY DECEASED. RIP. TELL ME HOW TO MOVE ON PLS.
> 
> (trick question because the truth is yoU CAN'T MOVE ON)


End file.
